


Give It Time

by ElderWhizzerBrown



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: "im still really into my ex but he's evil now :(", Angst, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Character Growth, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Partial Mind Control, Pre-Canon, Stalking (sorta?), that thing where the villian pulls the hero close by the collar and the fans all scream, the kind where ur mind is the same but someone else moves your body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 08:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30069168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderWhizzerBrown/pseuds/ElderWhizzerBrown
Summary: Two disparate encounters between Munkustrap and Macavity.
Relationships: Macavity/Munkustrap (Cats), Minor Munkustrap/Demeter (Cats)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Give It Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheDiamondSword400](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDiamondSword400/gifts).



> revival Macavity: *mind control powers*  
> me, a bitch: *opens google docs*

Munkustrap is sleeping. 

His dream isn’t a nightmare, not quite. A memory, or something very very close.

Jellylorum had asked him to keep an eye on some of the older kittens, but Munkustrap had snuck away at the first opportunity. They didn’t really need him, and it made him feel restless to shoulder so much responsibility. He was only a few months off being a kitten himself! Surely he couldn’t be expected to stick around.

Climbing atop an old barrel, he found his mate right where he’d expected. The ginger tom was lounging in the noon sun. His dark red belly fur looked soft, and Munkustrap wanted to bury his face in it and fall asleep.

Before he could do so, the tom’s yellow eye peeked open. “Playing hooky, I see,” he purred. 

Munkustrap opened his mouth to argue, but he couldn’t think what to say. He _was_ playing hooky, after all. “Shut up,” he muttered. 

“I refuse.” He made room for Munkustrap, and they sat side by side. Munkustrap allowed his mate to gently groom his ears. “You know you’ll get in trouble,” the handsome tom continued as he licked Munkustrap’s fluffy scruff, “Old Deut’s gonna give you one of his lectures again.”

Munkustrap’s fur prickled. He always seemed to disappoint his father. It wasn’t fair, being the oldest son of the leader. Everyone expected him to grow up so fast. “Can you not?”

“M’just saying.” Finishing his cleaning, he rolled onto his back again, looking up at Munkustrap with a playful, confident gleam in his eye. “We could always run away together before you have to face the music.”

Munkustrap rolled his eyes but elected to entertain the idea. “Oh yeah? Where would we go?”

“I can’t tell you where we’ll go. It’s a secret. That way they’ll never find us.” 

He gave in and nuzzled the other tom’s belly with its blazing short fur, purring brightly. “And what if we can’t find anything to eat?”

“I’ll find you food, Munk. We can steal milk and meat from humans. They’ll never even know it was us.”

Munkustrap couldn’t help laughing. “You’re crazy.” The other cat huffed and tugged him closer by his collar.

Something was bugging him. Something was off. He shook his head, dismissing the thought. 

But it wouldn’t leave. He had to get _away_ , he wasn’t _safe._ Worry churned in his gut and he wracked his brain for any reason as to why this could be wrong. He and his mate were just spending time together. 

Why wouldn’t be safe with Macavity?

* * *

A loud crash jerks him awake, and Munkustrap immediately forgets his dream. He stands and whips his head about, scanning the midnight landscape for threats. He can’t see anyone, but a prickling feeling, as if he’s being watched, creeps up his spine all the same. 

He’s been napping under a bench in the nearby park. It was Tugger’s idea, really. “Everlasting cat, when was the last time you slept, old man?” Tugger had said. His words had sounded teasing, light, but Munkustrap knew his brother well enough to see he was truly concerned. 

Munkustrap had stopped in his path and glowered. “Can’t you go bother the queens? I’m busy.” The kittens needed to go to sleep, and someone really should check in with Demeter before bed, and he was still planning for the Jellicle ball next week-

“I _know_ you’re busy, that’s the problem,” Tugger had huffed.

Munkustrap had simply scoffed and moved to return to his work, but Tugger had placed a paw on his. “I’m serious, Munk. Alonzo and I have it more than covered. Take a night to yourself. Go somewhere you won’t have to worry.”

Munkustrap had wanted to argue, but he couldn’t deny the bone-deep tiredness he felt. So here he’d ended up, eyes narrowed at the horizon from beneath a park bench.

Minutes and quite a bit of looking later, Munkustrap feels assured that nothing’s there. He relaxes and goes to bow his head again.

“Boo,” comes a voice from over his shoulder. 

Munkustrap clambers to his feet and whirls around, teeth bared. 

Nothing. The prickling feeling is back, worse than before. 

“Who’s there?!” he yowls. “Show yourself!”

A claw touches his back and Munkustrap is frozen. It traces leisurely down his spine, vertebrae by vertebrae, the owner letting out a quiet hum. “Aw, Munk, you don’t even recognize me? I’m hurt, I really am.”

He can’t move. It isn’t fear stopping him, no, it’s more as if his brain’s communication with his muscles has been severed. He can’t jerk away, can’t turn his head. All he can manage is a single choked-out word: “ _Macavity._ ”

Macavity chuckles. “That’s more like it. Tell me, Munk, what are you doing so far from home? This isn’t like you.”

“What do you want?” he snarls back rather than respond. He’s still occupied with the strange sensation of immobility. It must be one of Macavity’s spells; he’d never turned them on Munkustrap before. The thought he’d do it now...

“I missed you.” Although he can’t see, Munkustrap is certain the ginger tom’s face forms a pout. “Can’t a cat miss his oldest friend?”

“We’re not friends, Macavity.”

The claw disappears and Munkustrap collapses, unexpectedly in total control of his body again. Exhaustion hits his limbs as if standing still had been immensely tiring. 

“No, I suppose that word never quite fit.” Macavity sounds almost pensive, almost melancholy for a moment before he hardens again. “Regardless, you have something that belongs to me. I’d like it back.” 

Munkustrap looks back. Macavity looks uncombed, wild. There’s a certain glint in his eye, a certain tilt of his head that’s so familiar, that makes him want to touch the tom again, the way he used to. 

The way his dream-self had. 

He puts the thought aside; he can work out his feelings towards Macavity when he’s not being actively threatened. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Macavity waves a paw carelessly and Munkustrap’s body seizes up again. Only this time, _Macavity_ moves his limbs remotely, forces the Jellicle prince to stand face to face with him. Munkustrap goes numb with shock. Holding him in place was one thing, but to maneuver him like a puppet? The Macavity he knew would _never_!

But with this new Macavity, he has no more knowledge to reference as to what he _can_ or _can’t, will_ or _won’t_ do. Somehow, the thought is more terrifying than the spell itself. 

Staring one another down muzzle to muzzle, Macavity clarifies. “The queen. Demeter. She’s mine.”

Munkustrap tries not to let his surprise show. She’s never mentioned _Macavity._ Maybe Bombalurina knew about this, but he certainly didn’t. What does it say about him, he wonders, that the idea she was one of Macavity’s cats makes him momentarily falter in his opinion of her?

“I think you’ll find she’s one of _mine,”_ Munkustrap states with surety that surprises even himself. But of course Demeter is one of his. No brief lapse in judgment could change the fact that Demeter has earned her place in the tribe.

Macavity cocks an eyebrow. “Oh? One of _yours?_ My, my, how possessive of you, Munk.” He moves his paw to fiddle with Munkustrap’s scruff, as if he were a kitten. Although they’re the same size, Munkustrap feels terrifyingly small. “Just imagine what you would have said back in the day.”

He knows what he’d say. He’d be scared of the sort of fierce protectiveness he feels now. Terrified of having people as _his._ “I don’t care what I would’ve said,” he lies, “Demeter is ours, and you won’t get her back. No spell can intimidate me into changing my mind.”

“Oh yes, the spell!” Macavity exclaims. “I almost forgot. How are you liking it? It’s a new development, work in progress; I’m still smoothing out the kinks.”

Munkustrap can’t help staring at Macavity in disbelief. 

“No feedback? I suppose that’s your prerogative.” Macavity moves his paw to trace Munkustrap’s collar. Either Macavity’s control is weakening, or Munkustrap is growing better at fighting it, because he manages to flinch away for a brief moment before Macavity pulls him back. 

“You think she’s pretty, don’t you?” Macavity murmurs. “You’re fond of her. Demeter, that is.”

Munkustrap eyes him warily. “I don’t see why it matters.”

Macavity hooks a claw in his collar’s ring and jerks it forward, any hint of softness gone. Munkustrap whimpers uselessly. Some protector he is, can’t even defend himself. Macavity snarls right in his face, “You can’t replace me. It won’t work.” His breath is warm and smells of milk and meat. 

Munkustrap’s mouth opens and closes several times as he attempts to get his brain fired up again. Is that really what this all is about? “I- what makes you think that’s what I’m trying?” 

He can’t tear his eyes away from Macavity’s yellow ones. They look deranged, dangerous, and just as handsome as they did in the dream.

Was he always this way? Is this who Munkustrap had fallen in love with back then? Surely it can’t be. Surely this is nothing like that cat he’d loved.

Macavity ignores his question. “What we had was miles away from anything that _cunt_ can give you.”

Munkustrap forces himself to squeeze his eyes shut. It makes the hypnotic control easier to fight somehow, even if it makes him feel weak. “Then why do you want her?”

“Why do _you_ want _me?_ ” he retorts.

And wasn’t that the question. 

Macavity continues, “She belongs to me. That’s all that matters. Hand her over and this doesn’t have to go poorly.” He releases Munkustrap’s collar but doesn’t release the spell, leaving them just as close as before. Munkustrap opens his eyes, sees a soft expression on Macavity’s face, but one with an underlying danger. “If you play your cards right, maybe we’ll _both_ get what we want.”

And he _wants._ Of course he does. 

Has Macavity changed? Almost certainly. But Munkustrap has changed as well. He isn’t a borderline-kitten who couldn’t see past his own snout anymore. There are other people, and he’s made them a promise.

Munkustrap gathers all the will he can muster and spits at Macavity’s feet. The other cat looks shocked, disgusted, hurt, even. “I’m not playing any cards in a game where you cheat.”

“So that’s it?” He sounds like he can’t quite believe it. Munkustrap nods. 

Macavity scowls and waves his paw one last time. All at once, Munkustrap is alone in the Autumn night. He hasn’t slept much, but he feels refreshed, somehow. He takes a single moment to himself, steadying his mind, before going home.

Munkustrap is awake.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading loves. I'd super appreciate it if you left kudos and/or comments!


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